#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
So these are the hills of home. H… nearly subliminal. To see them is… double, hear bad puns delivered wi… An untoward familiarity. Rising from my sleep, the road is…
The idea that they were reenacting something which had been staged in the first place bothered her. If she wanted to go on, she’d need to ignore this limp chronology. She assumed he was...
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
